The Tattooist of Auschwitz (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #1) - Heather Morris Page 0,41

he’ll get his. As soon as I’ve finished here I can get you plenty of food. Chocolate, sausage, what do you want? I’ll fatten you up.’

Leon smiles weakly at him. ‘Thanks, Lale.’

‘I knew the bastard was starving prisoners. I thought he was only doing it to girls.’

‘If only that was all it was.’

‘What do you mean?’

Now Leon stares directly into Lale’s eyes. ‘He cut my fucking balls off, Lale,’ he says, his voice strong and steady. ‘Somehow you lose your appetite when they cut your balls off.’

Lale reels back in horror, and turns away, not wanting Leon to see his shock. Leon fights back a sob and struggles to find his voice as he searches the ground for something to focus on.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. Thank you for your offer. I am grateful to you.’

Lale breathes deeply, trying to control his anger. He badly wants to lash out, to take revenge on the crime committed against his friend.

Leon clears his throat. ‘Any chance I can have my job back?’

Lale’s face floods with warmth. ‘Of course. Glad to have you back – but only when you’ve regained your strength,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you go back to my room? If any of the Gypsies stop you, tell them you’re my friend and I’ve sent you there. You’ll find supplies under my bed. I’ll see you when I’m done here.’

A senior SS officer approaches.

‘Go now, hurry.’

‘Hurrying is not something I can do right now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK. I’m gone. See you later.’

The officer watches Leon walk off and turns back to what he was doing previously: determining who should live and die.

•

The next day, Lale reports to the administration office to be told that he has the day off. No transports are arriving at either Auschwitz or Birkenau and there is no request from Herr Doktor to assist him. He spends the morning with Leon. He’d bribed his old kapo in Block 7 to take Leon in, on the understanding he will work for him when he has regained his strength. He gives him food that he had been planning to give to his Romani friends and to Gita for distribution.

As Lale is leaving Leon, Baretski calls out to him. ‘Tätowierer, where have you been? I have been looking for you.’

‘I was told I had the day off.’

‘Well, you don’t anymore. Come, we have a job.’

‘I have to get my bag.’

‘You don’t need your tools for this job. Come.’

Lale hurries after Baretski. They are heading towards one of the crematoria.

He catches up with him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Are you worried?’ Baretski laughs.

‘Wouldn’t you be?’

‘No.’

Lale’s chest tightens; his breath comes too short. Should he run? If he does, Baretski will surely turn his weapon on him. But then, what would it matter? A bullet is surely preferable to the ovens.

They are very close to Crematorium Three before Baretski decides to put Lale out of his misery. He slows his long strides.

‘Don’t worry. Now come on before we both get into trouble and end up in the ovens.’

‘You’re not getting rid of me?’

‘Not just yet. There are two prisoners in here who appear to have the same number. We need you to look at them. It must have been you or that eunuch who made the marks. You have to tell us which one is which.’

The red brick building looms in front of them; large windows disguise the purpose, but the size of the chimneys confirms its horrifying true nature. They are met at the entrance by two SS, who joke with Baretski and ignore Lale. They point to closed doors inside the building and Baretski and Lale walk towards them. Lale looks around at this final stretch of the road to death at Birkenau. He sees the Sonderkommandos standing by, defeated, ready to do a job no one on earth would volunteer for: removing corpses from the gas chambers and putting them into the ovens. He tries to make eye contact with them, to let them know he too works for the enemy. He too has chosen to stay alive for as long as he can, by performing an act of defilement on people of his own faith. None of them meets his eye. He has heard what other prisoners say about these men and the privileged position they occupy – housed separately, receiving extra rations, having warm clothing and blankets to sleep under. Their lives parallel his and he feels a sinking in his gut at the thought